


Xeriscape

by wavewright62



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Christian Mage, Christianity, Female Protagonist, Gen, Other surviving communities, WB: Dreamworld (SSSS) - Freeform, WB: Religion & Magic (SSSS) - Freeform, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-04-05 06:20:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14038047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wavewright62/pseuds/wavewright62
Summary: As we have seen in Scandinavia, with the Rash came the rise of magic, gifted by the old gods to the survivors.  This held true throughout the scattered pockets of humanity left behind, separated from one another by myriad dangers.  Deep in the desert of what was once southern California, a priest prepares for an important task.





	Xeriscape

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Unlos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unlos/gifts).



> A xeriscape is a method of landscaping and husbandry for dealing with a water-challenged environment.
> 
> This work also will serve as my entry for X in the SSSS Alphabet & Singalong Challenge - the first drafts of this story were always meant to serve for this, after all.

\---  
The shaft of light from the rising sun lit the fading mural on the stucco wall next to her as Gala thoughtfully chewed her breakfast. The light made the motif of the rising dove glow. Her auntie had painted the mural some years ago when this addition was built, as part of the ritual of protection. Gala had spent many hours as a child studying the sweep of the colours and the exultant dove, marvelling at her auntie’s magical ability. Even now as an adult, she enjoyed starting her day in contemplation of the layers of meaning her auntie had worked into this deceptively simple image.

As she watched, the light shifted into rainbow hues splashed onto the dove; the sun had risen high enough to hit the crystal hanging in the window. That was her cue to get going. She scraped the last of the grain from the bowl; she would need every bit of sustenance for the task ahead of her today. Using a tiny bit of water from the reclamation unit and the kitchen stone, she cleaned the last residue from the bowl and set it on the wide windowsill to sterilise in the sun. She added a wrapped snack and a filled water skin to the ritual items she’d assembled last night in her backpack, made sure the pipe was securely strapped, and tucked her short black hair into her wide-brimmed hat. Her staff gave a small thrum of recognition as she picked it up.

As Gala walked to the settlement’s gates, she waved to her friends outside the greenhouse unit, as they adjusted the flow of the output from the waste reclamation unit. Every bit of organic matter in Betolam, including the waste of its human and animal population, was reclaimed for use in the growing mediums in the greenhouses. There were occasional traders braving the desert and mountain passes between the widely scattered surviving human settlements, but mostly they had to be self-sufficient in what they could glean from the harsh desert or grow themselves.

The sun was hitting the top of the water-barrel plants that formed a living fence around the settlement. _Today is a good day for magic,_ Gala breathed. As she stepped outside the gate, she began the incantation, singing the spell’s tune in her clear voice. “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.”

“He maketh me lie down in green pastures, He leadeth me beside still waters.” She could feel the protection spell enveloping her as she walked along the pathway from the fence of the settlement, holding the flies away from her mouth, ears, and eyes. There were no literal green pastures here; even at this early hour of the morning, the heat was already shimmering from the pale surface of the desert. The animals mostly were burrowing into their cool dens, with the raptors soaring on the thermals above her, dark shapes against the limitless blue sky, looking with sharp eyes for any unfortunate creatures tardy for their shelter.

“He restoreth my soul. He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake. Though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me.” Even if one of Satan’s undead had somehow managed to survive the harsh desert surrounding the settlement, it would not be able to see her through the strands of her spell.

Some of the protection was woven into every garment they wore, threaded into the subtly coloured patterns their weavers wrought. The first settlers had rent their garments in their grief for those left behind, but Jesus had shown them how to take the threads from their old garments and make new ones. Like their new society, their garments were remade from cloth woven in these new, magical patterns, imbued with magic dyes from the rocks and plants of their new home, far from the dying cities of the old world.

In the days of Gala's foremothers, a plague rushed through the land, and the people had come to Betolam as a refuge. Even before the plague had come, this place had harboured those who sought refuge and solitude, far away from the city. The land was harsh and inhospitable, but the undead could not reach them here.

The engineer Cho, her great-grandfather, had made the first solar units and water reclamation stations, and so many other devices to ease the lives of the settlement. Ever modest, Cho had always insisted that Jesus had not blessed him as one of His priests and his devices were not magic, but he was still revered as one of the first priests. Her mother related that one day, the elderly Cho kissed his family and told them he was going back to the city to ‘check his stock portfolio and clear his emails,’ and walked into the desert, never to be seen again. The priests said that Jesus had taken him by the hand and walked with him.

Like all of the priests, Gala had been called by Jesus when she was a small girl. For was it not written, ‘suffer the little children to come unto Me, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven’? While everyone in the settlement knew the writings of the Bible, the young priests were given extra instruction by the older priests in the use of the passages to work magic. ‘The Word was made flesh’ was manifested every day.

Not long ago, Jesus had come to her in her dreams. He had walked across the waters, under the dark and starry sky on Earth as it is in Heaven, and He had led her across the water to speak with her. They walked past the sleeping forms of her people, each lying in their own space; only chosen priests could walk wakefully through this realm. He had told her of a new source of water for her people, and gave her the instructions for accessing it. She had been preparing the materials she needed, practicing the designs she would need to paint and the prayer she would need. Today the time was right; everything was prepared and both she and the moon were in the correct phase.

“Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.” She held her own staff across her open fingers lightly, sweeping it along in front of her gently. She paused in reciting the ancient incantation to allow the magic to guide her. She walked past the stands of water-barrel cacti and their associated Cho wells closest to the settlement; the acolytes would have just checked on those at dawn. The water she sought would be further afield, out in the desert.

The staff laid across her fingers vibrated softly, so softly, and shifted slightly to a new orientation. It pointed the way to the new well that Jesus had shown her. Gala paced slowly toward the spot, ignoring the increasingly hot sun beating upon her head and arms, reaching out with her mind until she found what she sought: a small nexus, the slightest hint of copper green in the sand. Her physical eyesight was not good enough to see detail any further away than her arm's length, and she lacked the eyeglasses her foremothers would have used in the old world, but the detail in her magic sight was quite sufficient for this purpose. The staff was vibrating in subtle waves along its length toward the nexus.

“Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies.” She held onto the location of the nexus as she carefully put down her staff and brought out the vial of precious sweet oil. Her song spell rang out in the dry air as she brought out a dab of oil to rub onto the ‘third eye’ in the middle of her forehead in the shape of the cross. She followed this with a dab of her own menstrual blood in another cross tilted at the correct angle from the oiled cross. “Thou anointest my head with oil." She could feel the nexus turned toward her now, responding to the magic. She brought out the jar of blue clay paint and traced the required design along her hands, using her concentration on the painting to calm the shaking in her hands caused by the rising power.

As Gala sang the stanza, "my cup runneth over,” the nexus leapt into life. She gasped involuntarily as the power of the hidden water surged through her. She raised her arms to the sky and let her painted hands dance the gestures to fill out the magic design. The salt from her evaporating sweat was the last element she needed to complete the spell; the spring rose in a bubbling fountain at her feet.

“Hallelujah! Thank you, Jesus,” she cried as she quickly thrust the length of pipe she’d brought with her into the spring. The spells along its surface ensured that the hard sun-baked dirt softened to accept the pipe deep into the soil without jamming. Once the Cho valve head was screwed on firmly, she filled the empty skin with the fresh clear water. The inhabitants of Betolam would all partake of a communion, using the first water of the new well. The rest of the plumbing structure could be completed later, but the spell-laden apparatus ensured the spring would not disappear before they could harness it. 

Her knees were shaking from the adrenaline ebbing from her body. She sank to the ground and felt the heat of the ground through the cloth of her loose pants. Eating the snack she’d brought with her, carefully folding the wrapper for reuse, she was conscious of the sun still rising in the sky and the raucous calls of a condor. She knew the ritual would take a physical toll, but she had underestimated how much of one. Her protection spell was weakened; flies were landing on her face, exploring the oil and blood painted there. Absentmindedly she wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, realising a moment too late that she’d smeared the painstakingly painted designs. Fortunately the magic was complete and the design no longer necessary, but it still admonished her to gather her strength to get back home.

"Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me, all the days of my life. I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.” Gala chanted the last stanza of the verse to herself as she made her way back as quickly as she could, the filled water skin slapping against her belly as she strode. 

**Author's Note:**

> I am using 'priest' as a gender-neutral term here. I have enjoyed speculating about fusing more feminine magic forms with Christianity; I hope you enjoyed this too.


End file.
